Ketsueki
by Maiden of the Moon
Summary: Blood... it can be quite the aphrodisiac. A collection of ZADR ficlets surrounding the mysterious allures of pleasure, passion, and pain. [Warnings: Dark, slash.]
1. Eyes

_**Disclaimer:** I bet none of you even read these things, do you? I could just put "blah blah blahblabbity blah blah" in place of "I don't own shit," and no one would notice. . . _

_**Author's Note:** Woo! Finally, a theme central enough to write a ficlet collection for it! Mwahahaaaaa. . . _

Ketsueki_—translation: blood. Technically it's more like 'blood-type,' but I think it's an awesome word, so there._

_Here we go! _

**Warnings for All Chapters:** ZADR, dark themes, blood (duh).

_**Warnings for This Chapter:** Character death, suicide_.

**XXX **

Ketsueki

_Eyes_

XXX

The knife slips in a little further—deeper, deeper, tearing away at my insides. I moan as the tissue breaks, feeling the snap more than hearing it.

Pain. . . horrible, searing pain envelopes my arm as I watch my acids spill; rivulets of redness becoming a barrage of burgundy—swallowing all but patches of my clammy skin. Raindrops form, pulling away from my flesh in order to fall gracefully into the forming sea of scarlet on the hardwood floor.

_Plop._

_Plop. _

_  
Plop._

Desire pumps through my slit veins, invigorated by adrenaline. It causes the thick fluid to ooze more rapidly from my broken machine. . . and I gasp— gaping incessantly, fixedly, madly at the puddles pooling around me.

The eyes.

So many eyes. . . glaring, glancing, staring, scorning; glittering like stars through the shadows of the night.

The eyes.

So red, so red— smoldering, glimmering, shimmering; like liquid rubies. Blood. Burning, boiling blood. . .

I can see him in my own crimson reflection; he's overtaken my entire body. He fuels me. . . He IS me. My passion, my obsession, my needs. . . my _everything_.

His eyes.

They're laughing at me even now. Even now, as I stare into the flood of gazes, transfixed by their beauty and danger; their hatred and lust—they're laughing. Cackling, taunting, teasing. They grow wider, larger, stronger; as I remember them being in his days of false glory.

_I can still see you, Dib. . . _

. . . Still, though his eyes and soul are dead.

Pain. A different type of pain—one much more virulent; nostalgic. Deadly. I crumple around it, falling into the warm ocean of stares.

And he continues to flow from me; I drain my entire body of his gaze. Of his essence. Of his revulsion. Of his love.

Of his eyes.

I watch my everything trickle away.

. . . then my vision turns black.


	2. Transparent

_**Disclaimer:** I bet none of you even read these things, do you? I could just put "blah blah blahblabbity blah blah" in place of "I don't own shit," and no one would notice. . . _

_**Author's Note:** I was inspired for this chapter by my own skin, actually. Being the computer/drama nerd I am, I have insanely pale skin—you can see my veins quite clearly up to my elbows. They're pretty and blue. :)_

_. . . uh, well, though I'm sure that was waaaay too much information, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! XD_

**Warnings for All Chapters:** ZADR, dark themes, blood (duh).

_**Warnings for This Chapter:** Implied S&M._

**XXX **

Ketsueki

_Transparent_

XXX

I can't get enough of it, the entertaining build of human bodies. It's like a huge cosmic joke: so fragile, so weak—so very, very pathetic. How can they have possibly lasted as long as they have? With their brittle bones, easily torn tissue, and organs soft enough to pop with a bare hand?

Such a mystery; I doubt I'll ever understand it.

But I don't care. I didn't come here to understand—I came here to study, to learn. Then to destroy. It shouldn't be so hard; just look at their moronic structure. Everything about the humans is flimsy and frail. So much so that it's amusing.

Oh so very, very amusing. . .

The Dib cries out again as my claws rake down his back and sides; his sweat singeing my body shell as my mouth clamps harshly down on his ear. Blood spills everywhere, from nearly every pore, orifice. . . Bruises blossom on his pale, pale skin.

His skin. . .

Perhaps the most humorous part of the human body, skin. Really, what do they expect such a weak membrane to keep out? Even the smallest of germs can crawl right through—and it's not like it protects from injuries to the joints or muscles. Nor does it hide anything from enemies—I can see through his flesh; it's transparent, almost like glass. I can see rippling muscles; I can see tired ligaments; I can see pumping blood vessels—a haunting shade of blue beneath the white.

So useless. . . a waste. Saddening, almost, that a race so proud be stored in these ineffective containers. It almost makes me want to be gentle with the Dib; hold him, perhaps—protect him.

_Almost_.

Instead, I sneer, reveling in my superiority as my fingers clamp around his wrists; pinning him harshly to the bed frame as our bodies begin to peak. He screams, pretending to hate this, hate me. But I can see—see through his feeble flesh and on to the white-hot desire that's pulsing through his violet veins as we ride the waves of pain and pleasure.

He can hide nothing from me; he is transparent.

. . . I like that.


	3. Nothing

_**Disclaimer:** I bet none of you even read these things, do you? I could just put "blah blah blahblabbity blah blah" in place of "I don't own shit," and no one would notice. . . _

_**Author's Note:** I've been reading a lot of "Zim kills Dib because Tallest say to, then cries because it turns out to be a trick" fics lately and, while not to say that they're not well written or interesting—I've enjoyed each one of them, and even wrote a piece like it myself ("Roses Are Red")— you have to admit it's getting a little cliché. _

_  
So here I go, exploiting it UNTIL WE CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! XD _

_However, in my defense, this time the story ends with what I think Zim should really do. :)_

_Enjoy!_

_  
**Warnings for All Chapters:** ZADR, dark themes, blood (duh)._

_**Warnings for This Chapter:** Character death. _

_**Dedication:** This chapter goes out for _**Phantom of Spades**_, who's works don't get NEARLY enough reviews. _

**XXX **

**Ketsueki**

_Nothing_

**XXX**

. . ._ and I stood there, covered in it. From head to toe, bathed red in his essence—face sticky, legs trembling, fingers numb. But I was proud, for a moment. Relieved, for a moment. I was able to do it—I now knew that, despite it all, I could obey **any** command given to me; no matter what. Now they would have to admit that I was a superior soldier. Not only had I conquered Earth, but I had killed him; murdered my lover for "the good of the mission." _

_That was what they told me. "The good of the mission." _

_And I believed them._

_I was a fool._

_I turned to face them as the Massive landed. I watched them step out; standing tall and proud, I saluted them. Still dripping in the last of his remains, in the last of his life, I pledged my allegiance to them— **the two who demanded him dead**_—_ the ray gun warm in my hand. _

_And they laughed. _

_Right in front of me, before my very eyes, they laughed so hard that they grew blue in the face—nearly falling off of the platform that was slowly lowering them to the ground, like precious cargo. They guffawed and choked and sniggered and gasped as I stood there, soaked to the bone, gazing in stupid confusion at the two whom I would have done anything—DID anything—for._

_That's when they told me. Still pink with good humor and sick amusement, they told me that my entire life was a lie. That I wasn't really an Invader, that I wasn't really meant to overthrow the human's world. . . _

_That I had just murdered my only chance at happiness on the playful whim of Red. _

_And they kept laughing. They kept guffawing and choking and sniggering and gasping as I stood there, soaked to the bone, slowly coming to terms what had just taken place; realizing what I had known all along. _

_That they despised me. _

_I was nothing more than a game to them; my life was a source of fun. They didn't care that they'd just ruined the only good thing I'd ever known—they just wanted to know what sort of snacks the Earthians had. _

_And for the first time in my life, I **truly** hated. _

_I had to do something. _

_They began to walk away from me—ignoring me, forgetting me, oblivious to me— as I stared from that pool of death. _

. . . A smirk.

_Ignoring me, forgetting me, oblivious to me. . . Until Purple fell down dead! _

_**Then** Red cared! Hahahaha; then he turned; screamed; shrieked in horror at the blood now splattered across his face and body. Heh heh. . . I had never seen him look so stunned; so petrified; so very much like my human._

_Like his whole fucking world had ended._

_After a second or two he turned to me—dumbstruck—as if he were in a nightmare. And I grinned at him, tears streaming down my face, ray gun still raised and buzzing. _

_Then I said to him:_

"_How do **you** like it?" _

Silence.

Zim cackled madly, serpentine tongue lashing out to clean his lips of the remaining blood. The other Irkens present cowered, gasping in fear and horror.

The Control Brains beeped and peeped decisively.

**Irken Zim. . . In light of your crimes— Horrible Painful Overload Day One and Two, ignoring banishment, ruining Operation Impending Doom One, escaping from Foodcortia, the accidental death of Tallest Miyuki, the assassination of Tallest Purple, and for falling in love with a human— you are to be decommissioned immediately, by removal of your PAK. **

The crowd cheered and whistled, watching excitedly as the guards did just that, rendering the small Invader useless. But despite this and his decomposing body, Zim still smiled—shooting a glorious glare at the mute and seething Red.

_At least **I** won't be alone anymore. _

Death.

And then Red had nothing.


	4. Wine

_**Disclaimer:** I bet none of you even read these things, do you? I could just put "blah blah blahblabbity blah blah" in place of "I don't own shit," and no one would notice. . . _

_**Author's Note:** It's been a while, eh, guys? Sorry about that. I've got a million fics for tons of different fandoms swirling around in my head right now, but I never really feel like sitting down and writing any of them out. It sorta sucks. Eh heh. _

_But that's neither here nor there. _

_  
Anyway, this one was inspired—frighteningly enough—by my church. (That would be your cue to hit the back button. ;)) So let's see how this turns out, hmm?_

_  
**Warnings for All Chapters:** ZADR, dark themes, blood (duh)._

_**Warnings for This Chapter:** Christ-like/religious comparison/images. Vampirism._

**XXX **

Ketsueki

_Wine_

XXX

"Your people are foolish."

The words rang eerily off of the stone walls, bouncing back and forth though the darkness like a toy ball—shattering the blissful silence. The candles' incessant glow wavered. It didn't matter.

A small smile tugged on the boy's pale mouth; his fair lashes fluttered half an inch upwards. "You've always said that before. Did you not mean it until now?"

"_I mean it **still**_," the other spat, sounding horrified and disgusted by any possible lapse in understanding. He noisily kicked a pew, grinning as it fell. Then he stepped carefully on top of it, delighting in the flicker of annoyed hatred that sparked into life behind his companion's eyes. _Watch me defile your everything, human filth._ "But now I mean it more than ever. Why waste your time praying to this invisible creature who does you no good? I have never seen him help you. What has he done to deserve your attention?"

"What have _you_ done to deserve it?" the other retorted, though much more calmly. He returned his awareness to the marble altar and golden cross, piously folding his hands.

And though his adversary cackled madly, he seemed furious: he was not one to take being ignored lightly. A fact that he'd proven time and time again. . . "What have _I _done? **_Horrible things_**." And the world—the boy— bared enough scars to prove this true.

The stained glass flickered as the fires raged outside.

But rather than expounded upon these despicable deeds, the praying teen simply nodded in agreement. "And so has He."

A snort.

"But he's done good as well."

The second male sniggered in disbelief, sauntering lazily foreword—throwing down the crucifix to make room for his ass. "_Like_?"

"He saves people," the first murmured, paying his companion very little heed. "From the Inferno."

"I do not see this Savior outside," the other chortled, casting a smug glance towards the exit. They were probably trapped, now—smoke would be filling this fortress soon, too. Yes. . . though the boulders could not burn, they could smolder. "And I think the inferno has come."

"_You_ don't see because you don't believe."

"And what is there to believe _in_?" the second sneered, hopping off of the sanctified table and striding over, hips swaying in cocky delight. "Help you cannot watch? Words you cannot hear? Take my advice, pig smelly—only believe in the tangibles." Reaching the boy, smug air in tact, he allowed his gloved fingers to dart out— tauntingly tilting the other's chin. Their eyes met for the first time in days. "Only believe in yourself and your abilities. Depend on no one else. Or else you won't make it very far."

Said boy cocked an eyebrow. "I've made it _this_ far, haven't I?"

. . . that was true.

"All right, then," the conqueror hissed, thin green lips pulling back in a horrible leer. A serpentine tongue darted out to lash an unsuspecting nape; it caused a delicious shiver to race down one's spine. "**Show me.** Show me the power of this deity of yours."

_Show. . . _

A pause; heavy and full of dark promise. Then the boy blinked his liquid black eyes and tilted his chin, baring his pale throat to the other. Voice soft, he whispered a light prayer:

". . . _drink this, for this is my blood, the blood of the true and everlasting Christ. It will be shed for you and for all, so that sins may be forgiven._"

His adversary greedily obeyed; rich scarlet droplets splattered against the stone floor.

"_Do this in memory of me._"


End file.
